


he hates it, he hates it

by strxwberrii



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Undertale Genocide Run, Child Frisk (Undertale), Everyone Has Issues, Ficlet, Frisk (Undertale) Has Issues, Gender-Neutral Frisk (Undertale), Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Frisk (Undertale), Genocide Route Frisk (Undertale), Genocide Route Sans (Undertale), Major Character Injury, Mild Gore, Nonbinary Frisk (Undertale), Not Beta Read, One Shot, POV Sans (Undertale), Reset Angst (Undertale), Sad Ending, Sans (Undertale) Has Issues, Sans (Undertale) Needs a Hug, Sans (Undertale) Remembers Resets, Sans (Undertale)-centric, Sans Needs Therapy (Undertale), Spoilers - Undertale Genocide Route, Undertale Genocide Route, Undertale Saves and Resets, aka frisk dies, i finished this at like 3 am uh oh, i know that "what sans thinks during the genocide fight" fics have been done before but, the major death isnt surprising if you know how the game works
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:39:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28551003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strxwberrii/pseuds/strxwberrii
Summary: They whined in a pained manner.But this isn’t about them.Right now, it’s about him.And he hated it.
Relationships: Frisk & Sans (Undertale)
Kudos: 22





	he hates it, he hates it

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not very proud of this piece so i may come back to edit thru it, but oh well
> 
> Although the gore isn't too detailed, it's touched on here and there within the fic, so here's a disclaimer if that makes you squeamish in anyway. Overall, this focuses on Sans, and his thoughts during the fight, along with some thoughts on Frisk
> 
> Enjoy some of this light angst :)

Drip

Crimson is drenched across the golden tiles, the shine of the flooring being covered with the red substance. 

Drip

The human’s blood is pooling enough to create a puddle below their mangled body. Their leather boots standing within said puddle, stained deep. 

Drip

Redness is seeping into their thick sweater. Starting from the chest from whence they were stabbed with bone. They knew that the redness wouldn’t come out, no matter how many times they would submerge the sweater in water. 

Drip

They’re still alive. 

Three HP left. 

They whined in a pained manner. 

But this isn’t about them. 

Right now, it’s about him.

And he hated it.

* * *

God he hated that sound. Almost as much as he hated the sight of bone tearing through human flesh, or as much as he hated the smell of burnt wool, hair, and skin.

He hated it he hated it he hated it he hated it he hated it- And he honestly-

Is so goddamn tired. 

Sans wondered if Frisk were anywhere near tired as he was. They sure looked it, but that expression may also originate from the fact that they were so near death at this current moment. A single attack away from being granted their ability to reload again.

The human truly wasn’t stopping anytime soon, he could tell. Sure, the skeleton got them hanging by a thread, heh, but he knows the way they worked around that by now. After they die for what feels like the thousandth time, may as well be with the amount of times Frisk has died in this corridor, they’ll just come back. 

They always come back. 

Always.

As he approached them, slippers scraping across the tiles, he stood before the child. His mellowed pupils observing the body that was at the end of the bone that shot straight through their chest. Frisk sure is taking their sweet ass time in taking their turn, not having chosen to fight or open items to heal yet, it seemed.

They did fidget though. Which made their HP bar be furthered down to a lousy two, now.  
He grinned as a short chuckle came through his permanent smiling grin, spilling from his teeth.

“heh, now that’s on you, kid. i didn’t do that”

kid… 

That’s another thing he hated. Calling them kid. The word itself brought forth a mixture of emotions to develop within his ribcage, where his soul lived. 

Kid was the name he granted Frisk when the two first met.  
Kid was the name he used when he asked them if they wanted to head to Grillbys for some fries and burg.  
Kid was the name he would use in a softer than usual voice to comfort them when they first seemed apprehensive of his brother. 

Well, before they killed his brother that is. 

Maybe there was another reason he hated the three-lettered word so much.

Maybe because when he calls them kid, it majorly just ends up reinforcing the fact that that’s exactly what the little human is, as difficult it is to comprehend or admit. 

A kid 

A goddamn kid. 

A kid with a sharp knife and genocidal tendencies sure, but still a freaking baby in the end when it comes down to it.

Sans doesn’t know their age, and honestly he rather not ask it or find out. Not in this timeline. Not in this run. Not when they just lost another stat of health due to his past attack, bringing their HP down to a one, which urged them to let out another raspy dry shriek of pain to escape their unused throat. If they don’t decide to take this turn to heal, they’d surely die on that bone. But if they move to retrieve their item, they’d lose their last hit of HP. 

Sans shut his eyes. 

He let out a sigh that just came out as a gust of air from behind his teeth. The skeleton brought his gloved hands up and out to shrug by his sides, resisting the urge to wipe off that bead of sweat that dribbled down the side of his skull then. 

“welp, you’re not healin’ or takin’ the chance to swipe at me, i assume?” Sans opened one of his sockets to attempt to catch a reaction from the little human that stayed silent and limp in the air to no avail. He can still be met with the top of their head meeting his view, as Frisk stayed hunched over and stabbed. Just the sight of messy knotty hair as they didn’t dare to peer their head up. 

Sans would’ve assumed them dead if not for his knowledge on their abilities, however so limited as he can assume it to be.  
“so are ya gon-” 

They sniffed and let out one of the shakiest of breaths.

The human’s tears have been dripping down their tanned and burnt bloody cheeks for some time, apparently. The small droplets mixing with the puddle of blood on the ground below themselves. 

He somewhat wishes he could laugh, but...  
There’s another sound that Sans couldn’t help but hate. No matter how many times he believed he would enjoy the sounds of the taker of all that was meaningful to him crying their eyes out, the sobs of the mighty powerful demon that this kid was, he just couldn’t. No matter how ironic it was. 

Sans loves jokes, but that joke isn’t all that funny. It doesn’t exactly tickle his funny bone, as much as he first would have thought it would. 

“...heh” 

He’s as fucked up as anyone who lost everything to a murderous-brat-best friend-in-another-timeline would be, truly. Yet not enough to reach that level of royally fucked up. 

He likes to think so, at least. That he owns at least a bit more strain of humanity that this lil’ squirt never could. And he’s a goddamn monster at that. 

“...fine then. take your time. not like there’s anyone who can take up my time now, is there?” Another laughterless chuckle came from the skeleton as a gross whiny noise was heard from the little human. 

“who do ya think i can thank for that, frisk?” 

At the rather dark joke and comment he expressed that brought forth no single giggle -as expected- Sans huffed out twice before allowing himself to slowly slump down onto the tiled floor. Adjusting himself enough to be sitting cross-legged, with his bony hands stuffed back into the confinements of his hoodie pockets.  
Sans let his head fall back first. Now prompting the monster to be lying on the hard, cold, and disturbingly bloody flooring below himself. 

His blue sweater is turning red. Not like it’ll still be that way in a couple of minutes. 

“hopefully you won’t come back. cuz’ i’m worked down to the bone. heheh... heh”

His sockets shut. 

With the small sound of another action of damage being commenced, along with that crack of a soul that always sounded new whenever he possibly heard it, Sans was given the ability to relax the pure tons of tension that nestled within his shoulders, spine, and back. 

At least for some mere seconds until the familiar blackness can overtake the judgment hall, the dying kid, and his own bones. 

Sans was almost wishing he could take a nap right then and there, but he couldn’t. 

Not when he was knowing that the golden colour and the child would return soon enough.

**Author's Note:**

> if i tagged anything incorrectly, rated wrong, or need more tags, do let me know! comments and kudos are appreciated :) !!


End file.
